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He cracks a smile at the comment about Caitlin's name. Peters are so effortlessly clever. "It's probably not worth some people's time to bother with disguising their identities, all things considered."

Peter seems to be taking to the space we'll enough. At least it was left in good condition.

"Dr. Isley was quite brilliant, actually. But one of her friends was quite mad, and insisted on spending time here. Harley made it impossible to get anything done."

It's noted fondly, though. For a short time, they had a wonderful little work family here.

"Yeah, I can see that." He's still uncomfortable with putting his identities together, but knowing his opinion wasn't the only one. If you fell along the mad scientist spectrum, you probably wanted everyone to know about your PhD.

"I'm guessing Harley wasn't a scientist." Friends taking up precious lab time seemed like something Fitz would not tolerate well. "Well, you won't have to worry about that with me. I'm pretty sure most of the friends I've met here would rather being anywhere else in Hell before sitting there watching me mix fluid."

As he talks, he starts jotting down ingredients and formulas. Should he make a thicker batch? Would the longer-lasting adhesives come in more handy here than conventional?

Though that tended to be that case, Fitz is generally mum about his own credentials. Jemma's the one who snaps to reciting how many degrees lie between them. Fitz finds it all a little pretentious, especially here. They're all colleagues. That tension from before is probably an uncharacteristic blip. Probably.

"She was a disaster, but was excellent when it came to taking care of Little Mack. I suppose it wasn't all bad." He notes it as he rummages in his desk for a smaller microscrewdriver. Everything about this webshooter is practically microscopic and there's a particular thrill about the discovery process.

"Little Mack? Was that Isley's version of Audrey II?" Peter quips as he continues writing down notes to himself. He's vaguely aware that he left the other webshooter on Fitz's desk, but doesn't know the fate that's in store for it.

Now that he has a plan of attack, he moves to find a few beakers and base chemicals from the shelving units he'd seen earlier. This wouldn't take as much substitution as he thought.

"So, you said that Tony works down here sometimes, right? Any insights on what mechanical components are unclaimed?" He hasn't forgotten his idea of building a few Spider Bots for spying purposes, but tracers were another option he was considering. Both would require a space for electrical engineering.

"I think I might've preferred a fictional maneating plant to the sorts of things that used to be potted here." Pamela seemed to think it was funny when Fitz expressed discomfort with the developments, and he never really mustered the courage to tell her not to do whatever she wanted.

"Tony tends to keep his projects limited to that space." He nods toward a corner that's fairly overflowing with (whatever it is Tony is actually working on - it's been a minute since I checked with the player). And then he pushes away from his desk and steps to a waist-high structure that seems like an oversized doghouse and pulls open the thin plastic door.

"This is Little Mack. But do keep your voice down. He's sleeping."

Should Peter check within, he'll find a fluffy blue creature curled into a ball, looking a little like the sci-fi cross between a kitten and a toddler. Perfectly normal laboratory mascot. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

Well that confirmed it. Peter didn't want to know what was worse than man-eating plants. He focuses instead on what appears to be the Stark Corner, lots of things with metal plates and wires and other gizmos all shoved together in a haphazard mess. It was very intimidating, and also very Tony.

He walks over to the corner, hands on hips while he examines the pile. "Yeah, that's an avalanche waiting to happen. Maybe I'll just work on webs right now and then ask the man himself what scraps I can get my paws on."

Peter then turns to see that there's some kind of animal sleeping inside the doghouse, and he bends down to check it out. "Wow, that is the most merchandise-able lab pet I've ever seen. Did he come with the place?"

"If there's anything you need, just mention it. I can translate for the demons and get it here faster." He offers it without a trace of irony. From his perspective, it's simply a matter of working smarter.

"And he isn't a pet," he sniffs defensively. "He's the result of a magical accident some months ago. There used to be hundreds of them, but apparently some of the staff found that they were...." He wrinkles his nose. "Delicious. Little Mack is one of the few survivors. His cognitive abilities are limited, but he's eager to help. Simple tasks are best. He's quite fond of soldering."

"Wow, that's quite the offer. I think I see all but about three of the compounds I need, but two of them I can sub out for something else." The webbing wouldn't be exactly like home, and he wouldn't have the custom webs for special occasions, but he'd survive, especially since there was nothing to swing from here.

Peter had no snappy comeback for that info on the creatures. That had to be terrifying, to see your kind eaten by demons, so he resolved to be nice to this one.

"Well, I might just leave him be, then. Sounds like he's had a rough time lately."

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